


we can sail away tonight

by gleesquid



Category: Marvel 616, Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: Daddy Issues, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, House Party, Mostly Gen, OT5, Spidey Squad, Underage Drinking, pick a ship any ship, they are all FRIENDS but also a little bit in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 11:59:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11600190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gleesquid/pseuds/gleesquid
Summary: Looking back, Harry probably shouldn’t have told Gwen that his dad was going away for the weekend.





	we can sail away tonight

**Author's Note:**

> This is set pretty early on in Peter's college days when he's just starting to become friends with Flash, Harry, and Gwen. Any ship you could want makes an appearance. 
> 
> Title from "Neverland" by Zendaya/from Finding Neverland.

Looking back, Harry probably shouldn’t have told Gwen that his dad was going away for the weekend.

“The whole weekend?” Gwen asked, goggles causing her eyes to look about three times their normal size.

“Yup.” Harry poked a glove hand at the putrid goo on their table. “This is disgusting. Ask Dr. Warren if we did it right.”

“ _You_ ask him. Or better yet, ask Peter.”

Gwen and Harry turned to see Peter craning his head over his own experiment.  Next to him, Flash was texting under the table.

“I refuse to ask Peter a question about science ever again. You remember last time.”

“The longest two hours of your life,” said Gwen sympathetically. They turned back to their own work. “So you’re house watching then?”

“Yup,” said Harry. “Just me alone in a big mansion. Almost makes complete paternal neglect worth it. Hey, Gwen, what’s it like having a dad who loves you?”

“Overrated. But do you have any plans?” 

“Not really. I was thinking about buying a dog and forcing my dad to take care of it when he gets back, but that would be cruel. To the dog, I mean.”

“Of course.”

“Holy shit, did that thing just _move_?”

“Language, Mr. Osborn. This is a place of learning, not a club.” As Dr. Warren passed by, he caught sight of their goo. “Holy shit, what did you do?”

Harry was so concerned with promising Dr. Warren that they did in fact follow instructions, that he almost didn’t notice the look of mad scheming in Gwen’s eyes.

He really shouldn't have told her a damn thing.

 

“Hey, bud,” said Flash, slinging an arm over Harry’s shoulders. “I heard from one Miss Gwen Stacy that you are house sitting your daddy-o’s mansion this coming weekend?”

Harry carefully removed Flash’s arm as he glared daggers at Gwen. She was suddenly rather interested in her pasta.

“I am,” Harry said. “I don’t know why that’s such a big deal to everyone.”

“Um, maybe because your dad lives in a house that would make Channing Tatum jealous,” said Flash.

“Why was Channing Tatum the first celebrity your brain went to?” asked Gwen.

“I just meant that he’s rich.”

“So is, I don’t know, one of those guys from the Yankees –,”

“You know I hate the Yankees, Gwendolyne! You know it!”

Harry was wondering if he could make a strategic exit while Gwen and Flash argued over whatever the hell they were arguing over, when Peter Parker took this as an opportunity to make his grand entrance.

“Hiya, gang,” he said, plopping down next to Gwen.

“Parker,” said Harry. “I have heard you cuss out our calculus prof over a midterm grade. Don’t go all golly gee shucks on us now.”

“You totally didn’t deserve that C plus,” said Peter. “I was looking out for the little guy.”

Harry was pretty sure they were the same height. Peter did have broader shoulders though.

“So what is this I hear about you and your dad’s mansion?” asked Peter.

Harry glared at Gwen. She threw her hands in the air. “It wasn’t me!”

“Flash told me,” said Peter. “In the bathroom. At the urinal. Which was not uncomfortable at all.”

“I was just trying to make _conversation_ . . .”

“I don’t know why you’d care anyway,” said Harry. “Even if I _did_ have people over – and I’m not saying I’m going to – it’s not like you’d come.”

Peter clutched his chest. “You would _insinuate_ that I wouldn’t come to a tasteful get together in a mansion? Who do you think I am? A person who doesn’t like mansions?”

“You didn’t come to my study party,” said Gwen, looking like she was trying very hard to not care about something she clearly cared very much about.

“You don’t live in a mansion, Gwen,” said Peter. “Just a large apartment. And clearly that study party didn’t work or Harry would have gotten a better grade than a C plus.”

Gwen smiled, sickly sweet. “Have you ever tried not being an asshole, Peter?”

“Once, when I was six. Didn’t take.”

“Okay,” said Harry, steering this back on track. “If I were to have a _tasteful get together_ Friday night, you would all come?”

“Totally,” said Flash.

“I guess,” said Gwen.

“Count me in,” said Peter, already standing up. “I mean, I, uh. Might have to leave periodically. To check on my aunt. She’s very old and very frail. She needs constant attention. But I’ll definitely be there.”

And with that, he bounded away to whatever it was Peter Parker did when he was on his own.

“Did anyone else notice that Parker’s shirt brought out a little gold in his eyes?” asked Flash.

“You are literally the only one who noticed that,” said Gwen.

Harry sipped his vanilla frappe.

 

The first person to show up Friday night was one Mary Jane Watson.

“Um,” said Harry as she breezed past him. “Hi?”

She wore a short and tight sequined number and heels that caused her to tower over him. She spun in a circle, causing the light to catch a shimmer on her skin.

“Peter told me there was a party tonight!” said MJ. “Where is everyone?”

“It’s . . . a tasteful get together. No party. I didn’t even tell Peter he could invite anyone . . .”

“I really think I’m his only friend, so no worries,” she said. “Do you have any Coke?”

“The drug?” Harry asked nervously.

“What? No. The drink.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Is this your first _tasteful get together,_ Mr. Osborn?”

“I went to a study party at Gwen’s?”

“Oh, honey,” she said, looping an arm through his. “Follow auntie MJ and we’ll make this the most tasteful get together that ever was.”

 

It turned out that tasteful get together prep mostly included putting bags of chips into bowls and laying out strawberries and cheese on a platter.

“Your pop won’t miss all this stuff?” asked MJ as she put sodas in the rec room fridge.

“Nah,” said Harry, carefully slicing strawberries. “He probably won’t even notice its gone.”

“Lucky,” said MJ. “My dad notices everything.”

“I’m not sure I’d call it lucky.”

MJ squeezed his shoulder as she passed behind him to load more sodas in the fridge. “Would he notice if his champagne went missing?”

Harry glanced over his shoulder at her and her wicked smile.

“Who cares?” he asked, and from the way her grin broadened, he knew he’d given the right answer.

The doorbell rang. Harry quickly set down the platter between a couple bowls of chips and trotted to the door. On the other side were Gwen and Flash. Gwen held a plate of brownies and Flash held a six pack of beer.

“Ooh, yum,” said Harry, taking the brownies. “Did you make these?”

“Obviously. Just like Flash made that beer he’s holding.”

“A simple yes or no would do,” said Harry. “Must you be so condescending?”

“Of course. Can’t have men thinking they’re as good as me, ever.”

“I admire that,” said MJ, leaning in the entryway with her Coke.

Gwen froze. “Mary Jane. I wasn’t . . . expecting you.”

“And yet, here I am,” she said. 

They all stood in the entryway, a chandelier dangling above them and casting crystalline shadows across their faces. No one spoke.

“So,” said Flash. “Who wants beer?”

 

Peter didn't show up for another two hours. Harry was half certain he wasn’t going to show at all.

“So your parents really didn’t think about the connotations of your name?” Gwen asked for about the third time. She had happily accepted Flash’s beer and also Harry’s father’s champagne. Harry was a little nervous she was overdoing it. She'd never even expressed interest in drinking before.

“Y’know, Gwen darling, I don’t think they did,” said MJ.

“I have a medical marijuana license,” said Gwen. “I get headaches.”

“Don’t we all.”

They clinked beers.

Harry heard the rev of an engine outside.

“Ugh, I hate motorcycles,” he bemoaned.

“I think they’re sexy,” MJ said as she played with Gwen’s fingers.

“Really?” Gwen asked. “Because I, you know, I always thought about getting one . . .”

The doorbell rang. Harry pushed himself from the couch and meandered out to the entryway. When he opened the door, it was to see a sheepish Peter Parker, with a bag strapped across his body and holding a helmet under his arm.

“Sorry I was late. I was, uh. Feeding my aunt.”

“Huh. That was your bike?”

“Yeah. Kind of an impulse buy. I don’t even have my driver’s license.”

“You’re crazy, Peter Parker,” Harry said as he pulled him into the house. “It's growing on me.”

Harry led him back to the rec room.

“Nice place,” Peter said, staring at the high ceiling, numerous chandeliers, and original artwork lining the walls.

“Thanks. It was built on the backs of underpaid vagrant workers." They pushed open the heavy mahogany doors of the rec room. "Look who decided to show up!”

Cheers arose (at varying levels of enthusiasm) from Flash, MJ, and Gwen. Flash bounded over to throw his arms around Peter.

“Hey, Flash,” said Peter, patting him on the back. “Good to see you, buddy.”

“You smell really good,” Flash whispered.

“Um. Thanks. Hi, MJ!”

Peter expertly removed himself from Flash’s grip to go sit next to MJ. He side-hugged her.

“Heya, Petey. Want a beer? Champagne?”

“Got any soda?”

Harry tossed Peter a root beer from the fridge. Knowing that Peter wasn’t drinking made Harry’s own glass of champagne look a lot less interesting. He grabbed himself a Sprite.

“So what have you guys been up to?” Peter asked. “What’s poppin’ with the kids these days?”

“Please, stop,” groaned Gwen, but she was giggling too. “It’s cute when you act eighty-four years old but also highly embarrassing.”

“Damn, Gwendy. You must be pretty drunk already if you’re calling me cute.”

“Gwendy? Does that make you Peter Pan?”

“I’ll show  _you_ pixie dust.”

Gwen buried her face in MJ’s shoulder.

“Should I leave you two alone?” MJ asked Peter.

“Nah. I think she likes you.”

Without saying a word, Flash got up and put his empty beer bottle on the coffee table. He spun it and it slowly twirled until it pointed at Gwen, who had turned her head to watch.

“I’m not kissing you,” she told him.

Flash pouted and spun it again. It landed on Harry.

He expected Flash to respin, try to land on MJ, but Flash was already sliding across the floor. “Pucker up, buddy boy.” Harry barely had a chance to close his mouth before Flash was planting one on him.

When Flash pulled back, he grinned at Harry.

“You lips . . . are surprisingly soft,” said Harry.

“Right? I totally moisturize.”

“As thrilling as that was, I am _not_ playing spin the bottle,” MJ said. “That’s the beauty of being out of high school. I don't gotta kiss anyone because a bottle tells me to.”

“I’m trying to give Parker the childhood he never had!”

“If childhood means kissing you, maybe I lucked out,” said Peter.

Flash frowned. “Why does no one want to kiss me?”

“Cheer up, big guy,” said MJ. “If you want, I’ll whoop your ass at foosball?”

Flash pointed at her with both hands like he was her coach. “You’re on, Watson. I call Gwen on my team. She’s got a look in her eye like she’s out for blood.”

“She also has a look in her eye like she wouldn’t turn down a kiss from _me,_ so I’m not worried.”

“I can separate business from pleasure, Mary Jane,” Gwen said, wobbling on her feet. “And you’re going down.”

“Not if Harry pays off your general manager.”

“The whole league is in my pocket,” called Harry.

“While you guys play, I’m gonna go use the bathroom,” said Peter.

Harry asked, “Hey, do you need directions or –?”

“I’ll figure it out!” Peter yelled as he ran out the door.

 

Gwen and Flash beat MJ and Harry about fifteen times before Peter returned.

“Wow, this house sure is big! I got lost –,”

“Peter’s on my team!" said MJ. "Sorry, teammate, you’re out.”

“Ugh. Women _constantly_ use me for my checkbook. Why can't anyone love me for –,”

“Yeah, boo hoo, being rich sucks. Now move it, Osborn, Mary Jane is about to be a winner.”

“I dunno what you’re so happy about,” said Flash, flexing his fingers. “Parker’s a total dweeb. He didn’t play any sports in high school.”

“But I played a lot of video games. I have excellent hand eye coordination.”

“Father never let me play video games,” said Harry, flopping down on the sofa.

“I know, champ,” Peter said, patting him on the shoulder before he took his place. “It’s time for the Stacy-Thompson stronghold to crash down like the stock market in 1929.”

“Leave the trash talk to me, Tiger,” said Mary Jane. She wiggled her little foosball men. “It’s time for Flash and Gwen to be as devastated as Jack and Rose were in the modern cinematic masterpiece _Titanic._ ”

“That was so not any better than my trash talk.”

“If you ladies are _done_ ,” said Flash. “You’re going down _._ ”

Harry watched from the sofa, cheering each team on. But somehow, Peter seemed to be a master at foosball. He made quick work of the other team, scoring one goal after the next.

“Damn, Parker!” cried Flash as Peter scored his sixth goal. “Where was this during high school?”

“It was always there, Flashua.” Peter and MJ high-fived. “You were just too afraid to see it.”

“Are we still talking about foosball?” asked Gwen, who seemed very bored now that she wasn’t winning.

“Let’s go to seven,” said MJ, who had been invested the entire time and whose blood thirst only seemed to have grown now that she was winning. “Got one more in you, Tiger?”

“You know it, MJ. Drop my ball, baby.”

“I have so much to say about that,” said Gwen.

MJ pushed the little white ball into the game and they were in action. Flash and Gwen put up a good fight but Peter and MJ were better. Peter spun his stick of little men, kicking the ball into the goal – and straight through the table. It bounced around on the hardwood floor.

“Holy shit,” said Flash.

Gwen walked over and picked up the ball. She knelt in front of the table, peering through the hole Peter had left. “I have no idea how you generated enough force to do that. This is a hollow ball. I have no idea.”

“That foosball table was a gift to my dad from a Spanish diplomat,” said Harry in awe.

“Whoops?” said Peter.

“Who wants to go trash my dad’s indoor pool?”

Every hand went up.

 

Harry’s dad’s indoor pool was lit up with blue lights, casting an almost romantic aura about them. Harry didn't know where the thought came from. The five of them were far from lovers – heck, they were barely even friends. Harry had only met Mary Jane once or twice before tonight and Peter could barely get through a conversation with Flash without threatening him, but walking into this room, MJ linked her fingers with Harry's and Peter play-slugged Flash in the shoulder and Gwen looked up at the glass ceiling where the few stars New York could offer peered through and Harry thought _something_ a little like love was in the air.

“Unzip me, sweetheart?” Mary Jane whispered to Harry. He dragged the zipper down and MJ slipped out of her sparkly dress so she was left in her hot pink bra and black panties.

Peter wolf-whistled.

“You wish,” Mary Jane said, as she walked to the pool’s edge.

“Maybe I do,” said Peter, sending shivers down Harry’s spine.

MJ jumped into the water, splashing them all in the process. Her hair looked black when she emerged.

“It’s warm,” she said. “Does your dad keep it heated?”

“He never knows when he’s gonna be entertaining a gentlelady.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I hate men.”

“Even me?” asked Peter.

“ _Especially_ you.”

Gwen laughed and it echoed around the room. “Where have you been all my life?”

“In Neverland,” said Mary Jane, floating on her back. “Just waiting for you, Gwendy.”

That was the push Gwen must have needed to slip out of her skirt and blouse. She wore matching blue underwear that none of them got a good look at as she quickly slipped into the water.

“You left your headband in!” MJ said, swimming over to her. She pushed it off Gwen’s hair and tossed it onto the tiled floor, out of the pool. And then she dunked Gwen under the water.

“Come on, boys!” she yelled. “I can’t hold her for long!”

The boys hurriedly undressed. Harry tried not to glance at the others. He didn’t want to see how much broader they were or better looking. But then he looked anyway. Peter had on tighty-whities and Flash wore boxers that were patterned with tiny Spider-Man faces.

“Cute,” Harry told him.

“Shut up,” said Flash. “You try putting your life on the line for complete strangers every day and I’ll get your face on my boxers too.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, a strange smile tugging at his face. “You try it.”

“I wonder what underwear the Human Torch wears,” Gwen mused. MJ had apparently let her up for breath and this was what she was choosing to ask? Harry wagered she was still a little tipsy. “He’s gotta be too hot for normal underwear.”

“You can say that again,” said MJ.

“He wears boxer-briefs,” Peter said. He jumped into the water. “Sometimes he goes commando.”

“How would you even know that?” asked Gwen.

“I’m a photojournalist. It’s my job.”

“I really don’t think it is.”

Peter splashed her.

“What is it about Peter Parker?” Flash asked, watching as the girls engaged him in a full on splash war. His voice was a little jealous, a little awed, and a little something else entirely. Harry thought he understood.

“Heck if I know,” said Harry. “Race you?”

“You’re on.”

Flash beat him to the water, but only by a moment.  

 

“Are we friends now?” Gwen asked, lounging on float shaped like a flamingo. She had hauled it out of the shed and forced Peter, Harry, and Flash to blow it up for her. Harry wanted to blame his willingness on the wet underwear, but in all honesty, she could be very scary when she got going.

“What were we before?” asked Flash, bobbing in the deep end. He’d been treading water for fifteen minutes now. It was really impressive.

“We were study party friends.” She glared at Peter, who was trying to convince MJ to get on his shoulders. “Or _some_ of us were. But are we regular party friends now?”

“Don’t know,” said Harry. He sat on the pool steps, like a normal person. He didn’t even care that Flash and Peter could see how skinny his chest was. Let ‘em see. He was pretty sure they cared more about his drinks and pool anyway. “We might be tasteful get together friends.”

“Too bad. I need more party friends.”

“I don’t,” said Flash. “Had ‘em in high school. Overrated.”

“I never had many friends at all,” Mary Jane said from atop Peter shoulders. Harry reiterated the thought, _What is it about Peter Parker?_  “I wouldn’t know what to do with ‘em.”

“But you always seemed so . . . friendly,” said Gwen.

MJ raised an eyebrow. “Is that what I seem?”

“I mean it. I wouldn’t have thought you’d ever be in the market for more friends.”

“Isn’t everyone in the market for friends?” She tugged on Peter’s hair. “What am I doing up here?”

“I don’t really know,” said Peter. “I didn’t think you’d ever agree to go up in the first place. We could play chicken?”

“I don’t want my skull to be the next thing Peter knocks a hole in,” called Flash.

Peter half laughed, half grimaced.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever had a real friend,” said Harry. Frankly, he wasn’t sure if anyone had loved him at all. But that seemed a bit too dark for an indoor pool in the middle of the night.

“Look at you all, a bunch of friendless bozos,” Peter said. “Good think I have friends out the wazoo.”

“Your only friend is your aunt,” MJ told him as she wound her body around his face to force him to put her down. He didn’t budge.

“And she’s worth about forty regular friends, thank you very much.”

“I guess that settles it,” Gwen said. “We’ll be friends until we die.”

“Or at least until we graduate,” said Harry.

“What, we’re not good enough for ‘till death do us part?’” asked Flash.

“If my dad kills me because of that foosball table, then I will not be thinking of any of you as my friends.”

“Personally, I’ll be honored to spend the rest of my life with you dorks,” said Gwen. She stared up at the glass ceiling and allowed her hand to skim the surface of the water. “There are worse ways to go.”

“Is _the_ Gwen Stacy being _nice_?” asked Peter in awe.

“I’m always nice.” She splashed him in the face. “Put Mary Jane down.”

“Since the lady asked . . .”

Peter dove backwards, still holding MJ to his shoulders. She screamed as they submerged in the water. Flash dove in after them and reemerged with a splashing Peter.  

“Don’t worry guys,” said Flash, trying to desperately hang onto Peter. “I saved him.”

MJ came up, choking and laughing, hair plastered across her face.

“He wasn’t in any danger, dumbo,” she said and the the three of them fell into a new war in which the winner possibly had to succeed at drowning the other two.

Harry looked at Gwen. “Kids these days, right?”

She smirked and drummed her fingertips on the water as if it were completely solid. “You’re telling me.”

 

Harry awoke to a foot in his face. He reached up and poked it. There was a manly groan and then a voice saying, “Shit . . . did I sleep here?”

Harry peered up at the foot-offender. Peter. Typical.

“Yeah, I think it’s safe to say you slept here.”

They peered around the living room. Gwen and MJ were cuddled together under a blanket on a sofa. Flash sprawled out on the loveseat. Peter and Harry were on the floor with a couple of pillows.

“Shit,” Peter said again. He ran a hand over his face, lined from the pillow. “I didn’t mean to – I was supposed to go out again –,”

Harry wrapped a hand around Peter’s ankle.

“It’s okay, man,” he said. “Your aunt’ll be okay. For one night, I promise.”

Peter stared at him and slowly his shoulders relaxed. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Harry got up to go root around in the kitchen for whatever his dad had for breakfast. He found some microwavable bacon and some cinnamon rolls that he threw in the oven. A few minutes in and Flash came wandering through, still in his Spidey boxers.

“Aw, buddy, are you making us Morning After Breakfast?”

“Please don’t make it sound so illicit. It simply turns out that my dad doesn’t only dine on the bones of small children every morning.”

“You’re such a weirdo,” said Flash fondly.

The oven beeped and Harry pulled out the cinnamon rolls, only a little burnt, and put the tray on the island next to the pile of bacon.

Gwen, MJ, and Peter walked in. Gwen was wearing all her clothes, including her headband, and Peter had put on his pants, but MJ seemed to have made a makeshift dress out of a blanket.

“I smell fattening foods,” she said.

“Help yourself." He passed out forks. They didn’t bother with plates, eating straight from the trays. Peter finished his off in barely a minute.

“Hungry, Tiger?” MJ asked.

“Yeah, well, you know. I work out.”

“Sure you do,” said Flash. He tried to sneak a bite of Gwen’s cinnamon roll and she stabbed him with her fork. “Ow! What the hell, Gwen?”

“Hands to yourself.”

“It’s not like I touched _you_.”

“Might as well have.”

“ _Women_ ,” Flash huffed.

“One more word and I’ll stab you again.”

“And I’ll help,” said MJ, munching on a slice of bacon.

Peter took the opportunity to sneak a bite of Flash’s cinnamon roll. He winked at Harry. Harry smiled back, liking this feeling. Being in on a secret. Just the two of them.

 

Peter left with MJ on the back of his bike an hour later. Gwen and Flash left around noon. Flash hugged Harry tight. Harry hadn’t been hugged a lot, so he wasn’t exactly sure what the proper amount of time to hug your friend was, but judging by Gwen’s snickers, they had surpassed it about fifteen seconds ago.

Harry waved at them as they set off on their walk.

“See ya, Monday!” he yelled.

“Not if I see you first!” Flash yelled back.

Gwen spun on the pavement, unable to contain her laughter.

 

Sunday afternoon, Harry’s father came home.

“Dad,” Harry said, taking a deep breath. “I’ve got, um, something to tell you.”

“What’s that?” Norman asked, breezing by him to the kitchen.

“You see, I had some friends over Friday night.”

He rifled through the fridge. “Oh, good.”

Harry smiled a little. “Yeah, I thought so, too. But there was an incident, I suppose? You remember the foosball table from the Spanish diplomat.”

“Oh, that’s no problem.”

A weight fell off Harry’s shoulders. He breathed again. “Really?”

Norman emerged from the fridge with a beer. “We can get it all worked out and settle on a rate. I’ll talk this over with Tom and get back to you by next week. Alright, thanks. Goodbye.”

He tapped at the bluetooth in his ear and then looked up at Harry. “Sorry, were you saying something?”

Harry stared at him. He forced his lips to remain steady. “No. Nothing.”

“Alright, well I left a souvenir for you on the dining room table. Thanks for holding down the fort.”

Harry went out to the dining room table and saw a plastic keychain that read _OSCORP_ on it. Harry snapped a pic and sent it to the group chat titled “Tasteful Get Together Friends.”

_My thank you gift for housesitting._

_That’s disgusting,_ MJ texted back.

 _It’s like all of the failings of capitalism in one tiny keychain,_ texted Peter.

Flash wrote,  _Bet Gwen couldn’t find an outfit to match THAT,_ and Gwen said,  _Challenge excepted_.

Harry grinned and typed out, _I knew you guys would understand._

He pocketed his phone and the keychain and left through the front door, smiling all the way.

**Author's Note:**

> love the spidey squad with me on [tumblr](http://bipeteparker.tumblr.com/)


End file.
